


Ceasefire

by universallongings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Feels, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, First Kiss, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Rey Needs A Hug, Smut, The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universallongings/pseuds/universallongings
Summary: When the pressure of being the hope of the Resistance becomes too much for Rey to handle, she finds herself longing for the hope she’d felt when she and Ben Solo touched hands. So she lets her guard down, lets him back in, and lets herself be greedy with her touch—for just one night.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 23
Kudos: 171





	Ceasefire

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Star Wars fic (unless you count the Han/Leia ones I wrote in notebooks when I was 12) and my first fic in any fandom in years. I’ve been hanging around the edges of the Reylo fandom for a while, and you’re all so smart, fun, and creative, so you made me want to dip my toes back into writing again. I hope you enjoy it!

It was too much. 

Rey pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes so hard that she saw spots of color through the darkness, but no matter how hard she pushed or how deeply she tried to breathe, the tears couldn’t be stopped. 

It made no sense. This was where she belonged. She had people who cared about her here. She mattered. She finally had a family—one she’d chosen for herself. One that wanted her.

So why did she still feel so lonely? 

_Because the Rey they want isn’t the Rey they’re getting,_ a dark corner of her heart answered. And it was right. Everyone looked at her and saw what they wanted to see—the Last Jedi, a beacon of Light, the hope of the Resistance. At first, it filled her with pride. She was happy to shake hands with new recruits and old allies, trying not to blush at Finn’s enthusiastic compliments and Leia’s more measured praise. But as the days stretched into months and her connection to the Force felt more strained with each attempted training session and meditation cut short by her own impatience, she began to feel the gap between their perspectives and her reality growing like an open wound under muscles that were always tired from carrying so many sets of expectations. 

Tonight, it had finally broken her. Sitting in their makeshift mess hall on Batuu, she heard the whispers.

“That’s her—the Last Jedi.”

“I heard she trained with Luke Skywalker.” 

“I bet she’s even stronger than Kylo Ren.” 

“She’s our secret weapon. Everything’s going to be okay because we have her.” 

She could feel her cheeks growing warm, but it was no longer from a shy sense of humility. Frustration flowed through her veins. It felt like everyone was always looking at her but no one actually saw her. 

That was a lie, though, and she knew it. One person had seen her—had looked into her eyes and touched her hand and bared witness to every hidden corner of her heart and had still wanted her even after seeing it all. 

(She hated that he was the only person to ever truly see her. She hated herself for missing how that felt.) 

It had been a long day. She didn’t want to make small talk with Finn, Poe, and Rose while the rest of the room snuck looks at her like she was some kind of endangered species instead of a person. And she didn’t want to tell her friends what was bothering her. They cared about her as deeply as she cared about them—she’d never doubted that. But they each had their own burdens to bear, and they’d never fully understand hers. 

She wasn’t even sure she fully understood it. She hadn’t chosen these powers, this path, for herself. The Force had awakened inside of her without asking for permission, and because of it, there would always be something separating her from those who wanted to know her. 

It was a blessing of power and purpose. But it was also a curse of expectation and isolation. 

Suddenly, the idea of pretending to be happy—of putting on a smile because that’s what everyone needed from her—was overwhelming. So she excused herself and thanked the gods for her private bunk deep in the ancient ruins they’d converted into barracks. Within those four walls, she could be angry, she could be unsure, she could exhausted. 

She hadn’t let her guard down like this in months—hadn’t allowed herself to cry into her hands and feel everything else fall away. 

It wasn’t until she felt the familiar inhale in the Force—the anticipatory buzz that made her skin feel like electricity was surging through every cell—that she remembered why she’d worked so hard to keep her guard up. 

“Rey?” 

His voice was so soft, so tentative, so absurdly gentle that she could almost pretend she hadn’t heard it—hadn’t felt it seep into her bones like a warm mug of caf on a cold desert night. 

She kept her head in her hands, elbows digging into her lap. Maybe if she just ignored him, the bond would close on its own. 

“You and I both know it doesn’t work that way,” he sighed with a sense of amusement, and she wasn’t sure who her muttered curse was directed at—him for being there with an attitude that made it seem like nothing had changed since Ahch-To or her for allowing her focus to slip just long enough to let him back in. 

If ignoring him wouldn’t work, then maybe she could force his hand and make him pull away. “I hate you,” she snarled through gritted teeth, letting every ounce of anger and disappointment she’d felt since Snoke’s throne room come out in those three words. 

“No,” he whispered, his voice even deeper than she’d remembered it in her worst nightmares and best dreams. “You want to. You’ve tried to. But you can’t.” 

Her whole body shuddered then, the truth of his words causing a sob to escape from somewhere deep in her chest. She was the Last Jedi, the hope of the Resistance. And he was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. She was supposed to hate him. 

She’d failed. 

“Please leave me alone,” she breathed into her shaking arms, and the broken desperation in her voice disgusted her. “I’m”—she sighed so heavily her entire body sagged closer to her knees as the truth leached out of her the way it always seemed to around him—”I’m too tired to fight.” 

“Then let’s not fight.” 

Her head rose up from her hands then. “What?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh as she stared at the wall, trying almost painfully hard not to think about turning around to look at him. 

“Rey, look at me.” His tone wasn’t commanding or demanding. It was a quiet plea, a gentle pull through the Force. 

And she let herself be pulled. 

She slowly shifted on the bed to turn toward him, lifting her eyes to find him sitting up against the pillows on her bed.

(Logically she knew he wasn’t actually on her bed. She knew he was most likely sitting in his own quarters on some cold First Order ship. But that didn’t stop her pulse from quickening at the sight of him in front of her like he belonged in her room—in her bed.)

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” The words came out before she could stop them, eliciting what looked like almost a smile from him in response—until his eyes locked on to hers. 

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the shock of seeing the other for the first time in almost a year fading into painful recognition. Rey took in the violently dark circles under his eyes, the downward slope of his shoulders, the change in his body—noticeably thinner than it had been the last time she’d seen him like this. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t sleeping. 

And from the way his tired eyes began to water, she knew he could see the same truths written all over her face. 

The weight of finally being seen again pressed down somewhere deep in her chest, and she was torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay in this moment for as long as the Force would allow. 

The scavenger’s life had taught her to claim what was hers when she could, and old habits die hard. So when he held out a hand—trembling ever so slightly the way it always seemed to when reaching for her—she already knew how this was going to end. 

“Since we have no idea how long this will last, let’s call a ceasefire. Just for tonight,” he explained, eyes expectant—hopeful in a way she’d never seen them before.

 _Hopeful._

The last time she’d truly felt that had been when she’d touched his hand and saw his future. But the thing she’d never really told him—had never told anyone—was that she’d seen her future too. And even though he’d destroyed everything that could have been, she couldn’t let go of that future. She’d spent so many nights wishing she could see it again, to see if there was a chance it could still be hers—still be theirs. 

It was selfish. It was dangerous. But as her hand slowly moved to shake his—to seal this deal with the fallen angel in front of her—she was sure that it was what she wanted. 

As soon as their hands touched, she saw it again—the vision that had driven her across the galaxy and into the heart of the First Order. The sight of the two of them fighting as one fading into the two of them training a small group of younglings. The sense of balance she felt in that hut on Ahch-To overwhelmed her once again as the vision shifted to reveal the two of them holding hands as they faced a binary sunrise—the last image she’d seen before Luke had blasted through their connection. Now, with no one to interrupt them, she saw her future self turn toward Ben—she felt the certainty of his true identity deep in her core—and press her lips to his. 

She inhaled sharply as the vision went hazy around the edges. Somehow, she’d always known that was what the Force had been trying to show her all those months ago, but to see it—and to see it all so much more clearly now—left her breathless. 

She’d almost forgotten he was in front of her until she looked up and saw the wonder chasing the shadows from his face. Slowly, as if he was afraid she’d vanish, he traced her fingertips and palm with a reverent curiosity that sent chills down her spine. 

“Amazing,” he exhaled. He sounded like an eager student of the Force, and recognition flowed through her. 

“Ben.” His eyes lifted to hers at the sound of his given name—his true self. “What did you see?” 

She needed to know. She was terrified that the Force had been simply showing her the deepest desire of her heart—not a glimpse of a future that could really be. 

“I’ll show you,” he replied as he laced his long fingers through hers. She saw it again—the battles and the balance. The life they could build together—and the love that could fill it. 

She wondered if he could possibly want such a life. It wasn’t a life of power or vengeance or control. It was nothing like the future he seemed so intent on chasing now. 

Rey felt him sense her doubt, and suddenly, his other hand was at the base of her neck, pushing her forehead to his. And with this new touch came a new set of shared visions—brushes with death and tear-soaked reunions, rings exchanged by an ocean at sunset, a baby with dark hair and dimples. 

She felt the tears brimming then. She was angry at the Force for showing her something she could never have. They were on opposite sides of a war that seemed like it would only end with one of them defeating the other. This kind of future could never be theirs to share. 

She shouldn’t even want this kind of future with a man who’d murdered so many—a man who’d tried to kill her, who she’d tried to kill. 

But she wanted it so badly she could barely breathe. 

His hand was on her cheek before she knew what was happening, brushing at the few tears that managed to fall with a thumb that felt surprisingly warm against her skin. 

She wondered if anyone knew that the cold and hard Supreme Leader had hands that could hold this much warmth. The idea that this truth was hers and hers alone made her shiver with pleasure—a pleasure he seemed to feel through the Force as his thumb began to trace along her jaw while his other hand moved to her waist, holding her closer to his body. 

Her own hand began to softly trace the scar along his face, and she could feel his pain—the burning of her lightsaber across his skin, the shame of Snoke’s ridicule upon seeing the aftermath. She wouldn’t apologize—she was doing what she’d had to do to survive—but she moved his hand to her shoulder, letting him feel her own pain from their fight with Snoke’s guards and the betrayal that came after. 

They carried physical reminders of choices made, hopes dashed, and battles lost. But when their hands gently moved over those scars, the past felt farther away and the future felt a little closer. With each feather-light brush of his thumb over her scar, he seemed to see and soothe old aches—the cuts and broken bones she had to tend to on her own, the lashes with a whip when she didn’t bring in enough valuable parts, the hunger, the loneliness. And as her finger slowly followed the path her lightsaber took down his neck, she felt the bruises from Snoke’s training, the years of psychological abuse, the fear when his parents would talk about his growing powers as if he were a threat that needed to be stopped, and his own familiar loneliness. 

Those sensations faded, though, as her hand brushed across his chest and sights of the past gave way to glimpses of the future once again. 

The details were hazy, but she could feel herself lost in a kind of pleasure she’d never experienced before. And as the vision continued to materialize, she felt something stirring beneath her—the haze in the Force clearing to reveal the sight of Ben’s naked body joining with hers. 

Oh. _Oh._

Rey immediately felt embarrassed, her cheeks burning. But before she could back away, Ben’s fingertips were stroking teasingly slow circles on her hip. 

“I feel it too,” he whispered against her ear, an echo of the past infused with a naked desire that made her suddenly greedy. She brought her hand back to his chest, trailing it down to his abdomen and reveling in what she saw—what she felt. 

She saw his huge hands all over her body—tangled in her hair, splayed across her bare back, lifting her up in the fresher as she wrapped her legs around his wait. She felt wanted, she felt powerful, she felt delirious with a need to satisfy the ache between her legs. 

“Ben,” she whimpered, her hips rolling to the rhythm of a particularly vivid vision of her lowering herself onto him in the pilot’s seat of the Falcon. 

He laughed low in her ear—a sound she’d never heard before which sent a jolt of need straight to her center. “I like this one too.” 

And with that, he was using his strong hand at her waist to guide her on top of him—present mimicking the future. She found herself losing focus on what could be and instead being consumed by what was—her thighs splayed on either side of his body, hips grinding against him as she sat in his lap. And even though she knew he was on the other side of the galaxy, she felt his body stir under her as if he was really flesh and blood in her bed. 

Her movements were unpracticed, messy, and driven by a selfish need to keep feeling this way—seen and desired and good. _So good._ Her hands wound their way into his hair, and the Force settled on an image of her on a familiar holochess table, hands in that dark hair again as his mouth did filthy and amazing things between her legs. 

Suddenly, his voice was all around her—and she couldn’t tell if it was coming from the present or the future. “It’s okay. Shhh—it’s okay.” Then, warm breath on her cheek. “Let go.” 

Her mouth found his with a ferocity that seemed to startle him, before he responded back with equal force. She had no idea how this was possible—how she could be biting his lower lip and greedily taking his tongue into her mouth from the other side of the galaxy—but the Force buzzed contentedly through her body, making her feel drunk with pleasure. 

She had no idea what she was doing, but she seemed to be doing it right because he moaned against her lips like he’d been stranded in the Jakku desert and finally found water. Their hands fumbled for purchase until his slid down her backside, settling there for a delicious moment before flipping their positions. 

As his lips began making sloppy work of her neck, his knee slid between her legs, and she hummed a low sound of appreciation into his hair. 

“What do you want, Rey?” he asked softly between kisses to her collarbone. “Say it. Please.”

Her hands slid through his hair to bring his face up to hers. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

He nodded slowly, looking down at her with such intimacy that she could barely breathe. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils as his hand slowly worked its way up her thigh, teasing her with his fingernails and staring in awe at the way her muscles seemed to shake under his hands. And then, mercifully, his fingers pressed against the fabric of her pants where she was wet and aching. 

Her hips bucked up into his hand and she was overtaken by the heady realization that he was just as inexperienced, just as unsure, and just as desperate as she was. But while her desperation was to keep feeling this way, his was to keep making her feel this way. 

(She knew in that moment that she loved him and that she would doom herself all over again to be by his side for one more second if she could. But she also knew in that moment that she would wake up in the morning and continue to lead the fight against him as if none of this had ever happened. A tear slipped out then, and if it was from love or loss, she would never say.)

They knew the Force could pull them apart at any moment, so they made quick work of it, desire making his usually deft hands clumsy as he pulled down her pants to give his fingers better access. She shimmied on the bed to help, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of it all—they were separated by star systems, but here she was with her pants around her calves, legs spread wide for the Supreme Leader of the First Order. 

But that wasn’t who he was to her in this moment. He was Ben. And she wasn’t the Last Jedi in this moment. She was Rey. 

As his thumb found her bundle of nerves, she felt her eyes shut in relief. But then his deep voice brought her back.

“Rey, look at me.” There it was again, that gentle plea—that pull through the Force. And once again, she let herself be pulled. 

There were no visions this time. Just Ben. His eyes never leaving her face as his fingers brought her to the edge. She wondered for a moment if this whole thing was a vision, a dream, a trick of the Force. But then she saw his soft, satisfied smile as she arched her back off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, and she knew the Force was not that cruel. For one night, it gave them what they needed. They were seen, they were wanted, they were free. 

They had hope. 

As her world exploded with pleasure and the Force sang through her body, the bond shut swiftly and unforgivingly with her cry of his name. 

And just like that, it was over. Just like that, they had to be enemies again. Just like that, she had to pretend she hadn’t just allowed a man who’d tried to kill all her friends to touch her like she was the most precious thing his hands had ever held. 

She found herself crying alone in her bunk once again. 

It wasn’t enough.


End file.
